


Strange Bedfellows

by Jelly



Series: The Primrose Path [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M, Gen, Harry Potter Crossover - Freeform, I have No Excuse, snk but in hogwarts, this au is too much fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:39:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8140946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jelly/pseuds/Jelly
Summary: Or: Relationships born and strengthened in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing through the eyes of Madame Petra Ral.Hogwarts AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been doing this thing lately where, when I want to write but don't know what to write, I default to the Hogwarts AU. Admittedly, this is probably my favourite AU to write because the possibilities are literally endless, and this has grown so big in my head now that it needs a little fanfic series of it's own.
> 
> This is the third part in The Primrose Path series, and it references other things that have happened in the previous parts, so if you're curious at all OR would like to read more Hogwarts AU, please feel free to check out [The Marriage of True Minds](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6340567/chapters/14526490) and [Asses are Made for Bearing (and so are you)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7518223).
> 
> Enjoy!

_Strange Bedfellows_

 

 

 .

 

Petra took the job years ago. 

She’d been working at Saint Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries at the time, and back then, when she’d worked on the Fourth Floor in Spell Damage, she thought she’d seen it all. She had treated everything from rogue stunning spells to incorrectly applied charms to unfortunate muggles who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. She’d even picked up a few shifts in Potions and Plant Injuries every now and when a witch was admitted with mushrooms sprouting from her nostrils because she’d tried to bewitch leek soup to taste like mushroom soup and got it terribly wrong, Petra was convinced that nothing would surprise her ever again.

 Until a friend, Levi Ackerman, a Professor from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, approached her with a job offer.

 “Isabel is moving,” he’d told her as she handed him a mug of tea. “We need a new healer at the school, and when Erwin asked if I knew anyone who might be interested, I came to you.”

 “It’s lovely to know you still think of me,” Petra had joked. “Although I can’t say I’m flattered that you’d like me to resign from Saint Mungo’s to come and fix minor wounds at the school.”

 Levi had actually snorted into his tea. “Believe me, if it were just minor wounds, I wouldn’t have asked. We need someone good. Someone professional – someone who can handle the most ridiculous of injuries without batting an eyelash. You know what kids are like, Petra, don’t you remember the shit we got into when we were at school?”

 Petra did, a somewhat sardonic smile tugging at her lips, but she had let out a sigh and set down her cup. “I really don’t know if helping out at the school is worth giving up my career.”

 “Six months then,” Levi had offered. “You’ve been at Saint Mungo’s long enough that they’ll let you have that without resigning. We need you, Petra – at least until we can find another healer with your skillset.”

 “Hm.” Petra had smiled at that. Levi had never been one to ask so politely, and long ago, when they were closer friends, she would have said yes before she’d even thought about it. Perhaps it was time, then, to at least give it a go. “Fine,” she’d said. “Six months. Then we’ll see. It’ll probably be a good break from Saint Mungo’s anyhow – and heaven knows, I could use a break.”

 It was not much of a break.

 At all.

 Six months had come and gone, and it’s been years now and Petra is still here. Thinking back, she thinks it’s hilarious that she ever thought working at Hogwarts would be easier than working at Saint Mungo’s. No, kids are idiots, to be frank, and Petra knows now – better than anyone – that the surprises in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry never, _ever_ stop.

 

 

i.

 “Madame Ral!”

 The shriek is high and shrilly, and Petra sets down her mug and glances at the old clock tower through the window of her office. It’s barely even nine o’clock, but she straightens her apron and reaches for her wand with a sigh. She bustles into the hospital wing and raises an eyebrow.

 “Sorry to disturb you,” says one – Sasha Braus, Petra thinks her name is. Connie Springer is next to her, giggling like a drunken sailor.

 “Ah,” says Petra, rolling up her sleeves. “Cheering charm worked too well, did it?”

 “Uh – ” Sasha pauses. “No – no, ma’am – um – ”

 Connie glances at her fingers, and he throws his head back and laughs even louder.

 Sasha flushes a little. “Um – it’s – it’s a bit complicated,” she mumbles, staring at the floor. “We were practising some spells on each other and – and I thought it might be an idea to – to try one of the new ones Professor Ackerman taught us and –”

 “Come now, Sasha,” huffs Petra impatiently, “we haven’t got all day, get to the point.”

 Sasha takes a breath. “Wetriedaswitchingspelloneachotherandweswappedourfingersaround.”

 There’s a pause. Connie’s laughing so hard, he looks like he’s having a seizure.

 “Pardon me?” says Petra.

 Sasha says nothing, but she tugs the sleeves of her robe up and keeps her eyes on the floor.

 Petra stares at them, and she’s not exactly sure what she’s looking for until she realizes that Sasha’s fingers are a little bit darker than the rest of her. She glances at Connie’s fingers, which are clutching his sides as he laughs like a madman, and finds that they are pale and delicate and much too slender for the rest of his hands. “Oh dear.” She tuts, swallowing the laugh building in her throat. “Well, at least it’ll be an interesting story to tell your friends,” she says.

 She makes a mental note to scold Levi later for forgetting to tell his students not to practise on each other.

 

 

ii.

 Every year, there’s at least one Quidditch game that goes foul, and this one is no different.

 Petra wonders, sometimes, how the sport is even legal, let alone played by students at a school, especially when Levi enters with three students and a stretcher floating after him carrying Gryffindor’s youngest player.

 “What’s happened this time?” she grumbles, glancing disapprovingly at the pitch through the window.

 “Leonhardt knocked Jaeger off his broom with a bludger,” says Levi sullenly, glancing at Annie Leonhardt as she scowls at the accusation. Beside him, his niece, Mikasa, glowers at her too.

 “It was an accident,” says Annie coolly, jamming her hands into her Quidditch robe pockets. “He flew into it – hell, he’s a beater too, he’s got a bloody bat that –”

 “Shush,” snaps Levi. “You’re lucky I’m not docking points, Leonhardt, accident or not, you still hit him in the head with a bludger.”

 “To – to be fair, sir,” pipes Armin Arlert. “It’s part of the game. The whole point is to try to knock other players off their brooms. They wouldn’t bother with bludgers and beaters otherwise.”

 Levi rolls his eyes. “Regardless, he’ll need to stay here for a while. These three will probably stay – I have other matters to attend to.”

 Petra humphs, but waves him off. “It’s fine, I suppose,” she says as he takes his leave. She flicks her wand a little and the stretcher hovers up and over the nearest bed before it disappears with a _pop_ and Eren drops onto the sheets. Mikasa, Armin, and Annie step back to allow her to poke and prod and do all her usual examinations. “You really did a number on him, Leonhardt,” she mutters. “Looks like he’s cracked his skull.”

 “She _what_?” snaps Mikasa.

 “It’s an easy fix,” Petra assures her. “Certainly not the worst I’ve see. He’ll have a heck of a headache in the morning, but he’ll be fine. _Curossis!”_

 There’s a sickening sort of _crack_ , and Eren groans, but the job is done. Petra tuts at the three by his bedside. “I’ll be back in a moment,” she bids them, and she turns on her heel to get Eren a bottle of analgesic draught for when he wakes, and she _swears_ she’s only gone for half a minute, but when she gets back, she nearly drops the bottle.

 Mikasa has Annie by the collar of her robes, and Armin is trying (and failing miserably) to separate them.

 “The _hell_ , Ackerman, it was an accident!”

 “You _cracked his skull!”_

“Guys, come on – please – ”

 “If he’s anything but okay in the morning, I swear to God, Annie – ”

 “He’ll be _fine_ , Jesus, were you not listening?”

 “ENOUGH,” roars Petra. She’s a little surprised, to be honest, she’s never had to yell at patients at Saint Mungo’s – she didn’t know she had it in her. “If you’re going to fight, then get out,” she snaps. “I don’t need you here disturbing my patients. Look what you’ve done, you’ve woken him.”

 “M’kasa?” Eren groans, and Mikasa releases Annie’s collar immediately in favour of being by Eren’s side. “What happened?”

 “Annie hit you in the head with a bludger,” Mikasa grumbles.

 “Oh.” He snorts weakly. “Don’t b’mad, it was prob’ly an accident. You didn’t mean it, right, Annie?”

 Annie pauses. She glances at Armin, and then at Petra, and then at Mikasa, and then at Armin again before she says, “Actually, I did.”

 The lie in her voice is obvious, but Mikasa stares at her, and Petra’s fingers inch toward her wand in case another fight breaks out.

 Eren blanches – Petra didn’t realize he could get even paler. “You did?”

 “I did,” says Annie, and Petra wonders if she’s ever had to lie ever before because she’s doing a really shitty job of it. To Eren’s hazy mind, it must look very threatening, because the poor kid shuffles weakly in an attempt to hide behind Mikasa. “Call it revenge for getting me into detention the other week,” she says.

 “Ha,” manages Eren. “Haha. I – I deserved it. Sorry.” The apology comes out squeaky, and pathetic, and stupid sounding, and Petra decides on the spot that the kid’s probably been through enough.

 “All right, that’s enough, get out. All three of you. Eren needs to rest.”

 Mikasa opens her mouth to protest, but Petra shakes her head. “Nope. Out. You can see him again in the morning.”

 Later, after Petra gives Eren a potion to help him sleep through the pain, she decides kicking all three of them out was probably the best course of action – if only to preserve Annie’s pathetic lie. Besides, she knows a teenaged crush when she sees it, and if Mikasa is still that worried in the morning, then she can’t wait to see how long it is before Levi figures out that his niece has a crush on ‘that dumbass Jaeger kid’.

 

 

iii.

 Marco Bodt takes Jean Kirschstein to the hospital wing one day – except that Kirschstein doesn’t look like himself at all, and Petra only realizes it’s him because a) he’s in Slytherin robes, and b) he’s with Gryffindor’s Marco Bodt.

 It’s a friendship that no one really saw coming, but it makes identifying the eighty year old man in Slytherin robes that much easier.

 “Do I even want to know?” asks Petra.

 Marco smiles wanly. “Reiner Braun bet him four galleons that he couldn’t drink two litres of ageing potion.”

 Petra can’t decide if she finds the situation horrific or hilarious. “And you _let him_?” she sputters at last. “Marco, you’re supposed to be the reliable one between the two of you, why on _earth_ would you let him do something so _stupid_?”

 “I told him it was a bad idea, ma’am,” says Marco defensively. “Believe me, I tried.”

 “He’s a _Kirschstein_ , four galleons isn’t even that much to him!” manages Petra weakly. “Come on, help him into a bed. I’ll have to ask Professor Bossard if he has any antidote – although I can’t guarantee he’ll have enough to reverse two litres of ageing potion.”

 Marco gives a weak shrug in reply. “Honestly, ma’am, if he has to be eighty for a few more days, it’s his own fault,” he says.

 Petra supposes he means it as a joke, so she runs with it. “We can only hope he doesn’t die of old age before Professor Bossard can cook up enough antidote for him,” she says dryly.

 Marco pales a little.

 Perhaps he hadn’t meant it as joke after all.

 

 

iv.

 There’s a burn on Mikasa’s arm when Annie takes her to the hospital wing one day, and it would have been the easiest thing in the world to fix – except that it’s a burn oozing purple and yellow pus.

 “What happened?” she demands, as Annie helps a whimpering Mikasa onto a bed.

 “Eren’s cauldron exploded in Potions today,” says Annie tiredly. “Some of his messed up potion hit Mikasa.”

 Mikasa swallows a sob and prods Annie’s shoulder. “Annie’s sleeve caught fire too, ma’am.”

 “You first,” says Annie sternly. “Mine doesn’t look horrific.”

 Petra sighs and rummages through the medicine cabinet beside Mikasa’s bed. “You can use this for now,” she says to Annie, handing her a little jar of salve. “It’ll ease the pain until I can get to you. Mikasa, lie back for me, please.”

 Mikasa does, and Petra tries not to look too worried even though this is probably among the worst burns she has ever seen. “What was it they were trying to make?” she asks absently.

 “Befuddlement Draught,” says Annie.

 Petra pauses in her work and stares at the burn on Mikasa’s arm.

 “They really fucked it up.”

 “So I see,” says Petra. “And watch your language, it’ll be points off if I hear you swearing again.” She clicks her tongue and prods at Mikasa’s burn, purple pus fizzing a little when she touches it with the tip of her wand. “Well, then,” she says – mostly because she doesn’t know where to even start. “Pass me an empty jar, please, Annie – I suppose we’ll just clean it up as best as we can before we do anything else.”

 It probably _is_ the worst burn Petra has ever seen in her life, given she collects three jars of purple ooze before she can even begin to give Mikasa any salve. Secretly, she’s glad that no other students have decided to injure themselves today because it takes her the better part of two hours to clean and dress it, and then give Mikasa an appropriate amount of fluid after losing probably a litre of it to purple pus.

 Eren and Armin turn up when she _finally_ has the time to look at Annie’s burn, and when she’s satisfied with her and Armin can escort her back to their common room, Eren sits at the edge of Mikasa’s bed and produces a bunch of wilted flowers from the tip of his wand.

 “Armin’s looked nicer,” he says, setting them by her bedside. “But I wanted to make them myself. I’m really sorry, Mika.”

 “It’s fine,” says Mikasa tiredly – although, in Petra’s professional opinion as a healer for ten years, it’s really, _really_ not. She busies herself with the jars of pus and pretends she’s not listening.

 Eren shakes his head. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily – Madame Ral said it was horrific – ”

 “Really, Eren,” says Mikasa, and Petra pretends she doesn’t see the redness in Mikasa’s face when she touches his hand. “Don’t worry about it. She said I could go back to class tomorrow afternoon if everything goes well. And you know, detention with Professor Bossard sounds like enough punishment. You should get to your next class.”

 Eren pauses. “I don’t really wanna leave you up here.”

 Mikasa flushes but she shakes her head. “Class is more important. I’m fine, Eren. Really.”

 It takes a little persuasion, but at last, Eren takes his leave. When Petra returns to Mikasa’s bedside to change her bandages ( _already_ soaked through with the remaining yellow pus), Mikasa takes a breath.

 “You won’t tell my uncle about this, will you?”

 Petra stifles a snort. “Which part? The burn, the flowers, or your crush on Eren Jaeger?”

 To her credit, Mikasa only blushes a little. “All of it. The burn especially.”

 “I think he has a right to know you were injured, Mikasa,” says Petra mildly.

 “I just don’t want Eren to get into any more trouble,” she mumbles, keeping her eyes on the sheets. “Please?”

 Petra can’t help but chuckle. “I suppose I can forget to tell him.”

 

 

 v.

 Levi turns up in the hospital wing late on a Friday evening with a cut on his lip and a bruise on his eye. Petra stares at him for a solid ten seconds before she can manage a “What on earth happened to you?”

 “I don’t even want to explain it,” grumbles Levi. “Jesus, how humiliating. I was doing Hanji a favour, let’s just leave it at that.”

 “Fine,” says Petra, “don’t tell me, but I’ll need you to take a seat if you want those taken care of.” She jerks her head at the nearest cot and flicks her wand to summon a tray of gauze from the other end of the room.  “You probably _should_ tell me what happened at some point though.”

 “Probably,” says Levi, grunting as he hauls himself onto the bed.

 “Maybe I’ll slip you some truth serum tomorrow at breakfast and you’ll let up,” teases Petra.

 That makes Levi crack a smile. A small one, but she’s pleased she can still bring them out in him. She dabs a piece of gauze against the cut on his lip.

 “You’re still here, I notice,” Levi points out. “Your initial contract was for six months, wasn’t it?”

 Petra snorts quietly. “Well, what can I say? Every day is different here. I’m enjoying the variety.”

 “You don’t miss Saint Mungo’s at all?”

 “A little,” says Petra with a shrug. “But the work stories here are much more interesting. You know Jean Kirschstein came in a long while ago looking like an eighty year old man?”

 Levi lets out a chuckle that’s swallowed immediately by a wince when Petra conjures a bag of ice and presses it to his eye.

 “Oh, don’t be such a baby,” grumbles Petra. “Honestly, these aren’t even that bad. You could have taken care of these yourself.”

 There’s an awkward pause, and Levi coughs, wincing at the way the tear in his lip twinges. “Assuming this is all fine, I need to go into Hogsmeade tomorrow night. If you’re not looking after idiots in here, maybe you should meet me there for a drink.”

 Petra shrugs. “Maybe,” she says with a smile. “But it’s a long shot. Maybe there’s an especially stupid bunch the last few years I’ve been here, but the injuries just get more and more outrageous. It’s probably best I just stay in case someone decides to blow up another cauldron.”

 “Right,” says Levi. He doesn’t say anything else until she finishes stitching him up.

 

 

vi.

 “Madame Ral?”

 Petra glances up from her desk to find Eren Jaeger standing awkwardly at her office door.

 “Sorry to disturb you,” he says, sounding almost nervous. “We – uh – we have a situation.”

 Petra raises an eyebrow at him. “Eren, whatever it is, I’m sure it can’t be that bad,” she says, slipping her wand into her apron and following him out of her office. “What’s going –?”

 Armin is seated on the floor of the hospital wing, puking butterflies into a bucket and looking awfully blue. Not blue as in sad. Blue, as in a vivid sky blue that clashes so wildly with his bright blond hair that Petra has trouble actually looking at him. “What the hell happened this time?” she snaps, rounding on Eren, because honestly, she sees him and his friends here so often, it’s almost another common room to them.

 “He – he wasn’t feeling so great this morning,” says Eren, helping him up and onto a bed. “Sasha said she knew this one potion that worked and – well – ”

 “I look like a smurf,” groans Armin, burying his head into the bucket. A monarch flutters out and onto the window sill, and Petra can’t tell if she finds the joke funny or if she’s just been here long enough that _everything_ is funny in its own horrible way.

 “What’s a smurf?” Eren asks, but Petra waves him off.

 “On your side, Armin,” she instructs, helping him turn and adjusting the bucket. “There’s not much I can do about the butterflies, I’m afraid, but I may have something to make you… not blue anymore, I guess.”

 Armin hiccups. “I’m blue da-ba-dee, I’m gonna die, da-ba-dee-ba,” he mumbles, and at that Petra can’t help but snort loudly.

 “ _What_?” asks Eren.

 Petra shakes her head. “It’s a muggle joke,” she explains, tapping Armin’s forehead with her wand. “I get it, Armin, not to worry. Where are your other friends today?”

 Eren shrugs. “Mikasa’s probably with Annie in Ravenclaw tower, I don’t know – ”

 Petra pauses. “Mikasa’s in Gryffindor.”

 “Don’t tell Professor Dok. Or Professor Ackerman.” Eren rolls his shoulders and prods Armin’s shoulder. “You want me to go and get Annie?”

 Armin shakes his head weakly. “Don’t tell Annie, she’s gonna be so mad that I didn’t tell her I was sick and that I took advice from Sasha instead – ” He hiccups and soggy butterfly falls from his lips. “I don’t wanna worry her.”

 Eren purses his lips. “Yeah but she’s going to murder me for letting you, you know that, don’t you? I feel like telling her would at least make her think I’m a responsible friend.”

 “You’re not fooling anyone there, Eren,” sasses Petra. She taps Armin’s forehead once more with her wand, and he yelps. A couple more butterflies flutter out of the bucket, but the blue fades from his skin like a stain in bleach. “We’ll give it a couple of hours,” she says. “If you’re still burping butterflies, we’ll have to look into something a little more drastic, but for now, I think you should be fine.” She sighs. “Let this be a lesson to both of you. Do _not_ take anything from other students if you’re feeling sick. You come straight to me next time, is that understood?”

 They nod, Armin a little more weakly than Eren, but Petra thinks they understand.

 

 

 vii.

 “M-Madame Ral?”

 Hannah Diamant’s voice is squeaky and terrified, and Petra knows something’s wrong the moment she enters her office.

 “What’s the matter, Hannah?” she asks gently. “Are you feeling all right?”

 “I’m f-fine, ma’am,” says Hannah, fidgeting with the sleeve of her jumper. “I-it’s not anything like that. I just – I didn’t know who else to talk to and um – ”

 Petra takes a breath. She summons a chair with a flick of her wand and motions for the poor girl to sit down. “Anything you tell me stays between us,” she assures her. “What’s happened?”

 “I’m – I’m –” Hannah stares at the floor, face burning in fear and shame. “I’m late, ma’am.”

 “Late for what?” asks Petra.

 Hannah swallows. “I – I’ve missed a period. I think I might be –” She breathes in sharply and her hands settle on her stomach.

 Petra’s professionalism almost slips, and the words ‘Oh my God,’ threaten to leave her mouth. She forces them down. Among the many, _many_ injuries she’s had to fix for students in her years, this is probably the least weird, but it’s one she hasn’t had to face – until now. “What makes you think that?” she asks, trying to keep her voice steady.

 Hannah scrunches her eyes shut and takes a shuddering breath. “F-Frans and I. We – we – in an empty corridor near our – the Hufflepuff common room, and –”

 That alone was probably more than Petra needed to hear, and she holds up a hand and waits for Hannah to settle. “Hannah,” she says softly. “Sweetheart. How long has it been since you last bled?”

 She takes a breath. “Six – nearly seven weeks,” Hannah mumbles. “It’s been a month since Frans and I –”

 “All right,” says Petra quickly. “It’s a bit early to know for sure, so try not to panic, all right? Have you felt nauseous at all recently?”

 Hannah shakes her head, and Petra can’t help the little breath of relief. “Okay,” she says, suddenly very glad she had brought a bunch of supplies from a muggle pharmacy during the last holiday. She purses her lips and peers out her office to door to check the vicinity. “Take one of these,” she says, opening one of her desk drawers and pulling out a small packet. “These are what muggles use to test themselves,” Petra explains. “The instructions are inside. It’ll take about two minutes, and you come straight back to me when you’re done, all right?”

 “Yes, ma’am,” mumbles Hannah, and she scurries out of the office and into the nearest bathroom.

 For Petra, it’s probably the same sort of terrifying wait, but five minutes later, Hannah returns with the little plastic stick in her hands. Petra holds her breath as she takes it from her, but it comes out with a rush when she sees only one little line. She wants to laugh. “Hannah, sweetie, you’re okay. Girls skip periods for a lot of reasons, but it’s definitely not because you’re pregnant. If you’re still worried, come straight back to me, okay?”

 Hannah nods, looking noticeably relieved. “Why do you have those?” she asks. “I thought muggle things didn’t work here.”

 “Muggle technology, no,” says Petra, “but these rely on chemical reactions, and those exist here regardless. I have them for situations like this, obviously – you should never doubt what muggles can come up with.” She grins, and Hannah lets out a relieved sigh and mutters a thank you on her way out of the hospital wing.

 

 

viii.

 It’s relatively rare for the hospital wing to be empty before noon on any given day, so Petra tries to take the most of these days by actually leaving the hospital wing and going down to the Great Hall for food. Today starts like this, and Petra relishes in the relative quiet - she takes the time to replenish her stock of potions, actually gets through a mug of tea uninterrupted, and even manages to make it to Great Hall for breakfast _and_ lunch.

 Altogether, it’s been a very good day and she thinks that, just this once, she might get through a day without having to treat anyone for something absolutely ridiculous.

 Well. She’s not wrong.

 She gets as far as leaving the Great Hall after lunch when things start to pick up again, and Mikasa and Levi bump into her in the Entrance Hall with an unconscious Annie Leonhardt between them.

 “Oh,” says Levi. “Petra. Good. We were just taking Miss Leonhardt to see you.”

 Petra is torn because something inside her wants to groan and throw a tantrum because she can’t have _just one day_ , but there are alarm bells ringing in her head and the rest of her springs into action. “What happened?” she asks.

 “I don’t know,” says Mikasa. “She said she had a headache this morning, but we were up in the owlery and she just collapsed.”

 If Petra hadn’t known her so well (due to their relatively frequent trips to the hospital wing), she might have missed the hint of panic in her voice. She’s heard the stories – Annie Leonhardt and Mikasa Ackerman, a rivalry so strong, it’s a genuine miracle they’re such good friends to begin with.

 “It doesn’t feel like she’s got a fever,” says Levi, shifting his hold on Annie’s arm. “I think she might just be burnt out.”

 “It’s hard to say for sure until I can have a look at her properly,” Petra tells them. She conjures a stretcher with a wave of her wand and instructs the Ackermans to set her down. “Come on,” she says.

 “I’ll get your other friends, shall I?” Levi asks Mikasa. “I imagine Arlert will be worried sick.”

 Mikasa nods gratefully, murmuring a thanks to her uncle as he heads back into the Great Hall.

 It’s a heck of a walk to the hospital wing  – sometimes Petra wonders if it’s really so much trouble to install muggle elevators because situations like this call for them rather urgently. But they get there in the end, and despite Mikasa hovering around Annie’s bed looking terrified, Petra breathes a sigh of relief when she realizes Levi is right.

 “All in all, she seems okay,” she says. “She’s probably just tired. It is that time of year, and I don’t expect her to be the only one. At least she’s not blue and belching butterflies,” she adds dryly.

 Mikasa stares at her, and Petra chuckles and shakes her head. “When Annie’s feeling better, go and ask Armin what I mean.”

 There’s a pause.

 “Sorry,” says Mikasa quietly. “Levi said you were having a really good day today – I hope we didn’t ruin it.”

 Petra lets out a laugh. “There’s nothing to apologize for, this is the job. Besides, I wanted to have a day where I didn’t have to treat anything ridiculous – and this as far from ridiculous as things get. It’s nice when the emergency is an actual one – as morbid as that is.”

 “Hm.”

 Another pause, and then Mikasa takes a breath.

 “You should probably make a move,” she says. “Levi’s not going to do it because he’s stubborn as hell and his idea of making one is to purposefully let Professor Zoe’s newest pet attack his face so he has an excuse to come up here.” She smirks. “I bet he told you he was doing her a favour that one time. It was a hippogriff. Just FYI.”

 Petra gapes at her. For a moment, she can’t think of an appropriate response, so instead she settles for, “Cut the sass or I’ll kick you out.”

 Annie rolls over in her bed, and Mikasa’s smirk falls from her lips. She doesn’t have time to say anything else before Armin sprints into the room and nearly trips over his robes in favour of getting to Annie’s bedside.

 

 

 ix.

 Petra remembers very clearly the number of times she’d been in the hospital wing, and that’s because she has only been admitted as an actual patient all of once in her seven years at Hogwarts. The numerous other times she’d been there were because of stupid things her friends had done – Isabel had broken her arm during Quidditch practise; Farlan tried to mend his own nose after a fist fight and got it so, _so_ wrong; Ilse cracked head open after tripping on a false step on one of the staircases; Oluo thought it would be funny to spike Levi’s drink with a sleeping draught that worked so well, he slept for three days – but hers was because she’d caught a heck of a cold after she’d gone to see Isabel and Levi’s Quidditch practise during a rainy winter.

 They’d warned her – oh, how they’d warned her because ‘Petra, you’re only _just_ recovering from your last cold, which wasn’t serious, sure, but _still_ ,’ and ‘don’t you carry that little muggle puffer thing with you for assma or something?’ (‘It’s _asthma_ , dumbass,’ – Levi’s words, not hers) – but no. Petra’s mother was a nurse at a muggle hospital near her home town, and _nah_ , she knew the science, she would be _fine._

She was not.

 Madame Pomfrey, the matron at the time, had said she’d only read about people getting as sick as Petra had that year, and she spent almost an entire month in the hospital wing, insisting she was fine and that she didn’t need to go to Saint Mungo’s, she just needed time to recover.

 Levi and Oluo had taken turns bringing her homework to her and making sure she didn’t fall too far behind, but vaguely, she remembers one night when it had gotten particularly bad, and she’d passed out hearing the beginnings of panic in Levi’s voice, and woken up to find him asleep at her bedside with a worried frown on his face.

 She probably should have made her move then.

 Honestly, as reckless and stupid teenagers are, Petra thinks that they are all smarter than her in some ways – at least they make the right decisions when it comes to their relationships – because the one thing Petra regrets to this day is running from her own feelings and letting Levi slip away.

 

 

 x.

 “Sorry to ruin your day,” says Levi.

 Petra chuckles and hands him a cup of tea. “Mikasa said the same thing,” she tells him. “You all seem to think that I don’t enjoy being here.”

 “It’s hard to say,” sasses Levi, “you never seem to leave.”

 “What can I say?” says Petra. “Students are idiots. I can’t believe I thought this job would be an easy run way back when you first offered it to me.” She snorts. “Honestly, I have seen some _messed up_ things at Saint Mungo’s but teenagers seem to keep finding ways to keep me on my toes.”

 Levi stifles a chuckle and peers out of her office window at the kids sitting around Annie’s bedside. “They are resourceful little brats,” he says, “especially when it comes to injuring themselves.”

 Petra smirks. “Resourceful,” she says thoughtfully. “You mean like that one time you were doing a favour for Hanji by letting a hippogriff get at your face?”

 “ _No,_ that’s not –” He pauses and narrows his eyes at her. “ _Mikasa._ ”

 “Admittedly I was an idiot for not getting the message,” says Petra mildly. “But to be fair I can’t exactly leave, in case some other idiot gets the same idea.”

 Levi sputters.

 Petra thinks it’s all kinda funny because she has never seen him so flustered about something so dumb. She sets down her mug. “Why don’t you bring back a couple of butterbeers the next time you’re in Hogsmeade?” she suggests. “You know, I don’t get to go out much, but I imagine that’s a better excuse to come and say hello than letting Hanji’s newest pet maul you.”

 “That is not even close to the arrangement there, it was an actual favour.”

 “I wouldn’t know that,” chuckles Petra. “I only know what Mikasa tells me. But maybe you can tell me what’s going on over those butterbeers – I reckon you’d be a much more reliable source.”

 “Tch.” Levi drains his mug. “Probably,” he says, and Petra can see the physical effort he’s putting in to being cool and collected again. “I guess you’ll have to wait until then.”

 Petra lets out a laugh.

 “I can manage,” she says. “I always do.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Curossis is not a real Harry Potter spell - it's an almagamtion of the Latin words Curare (to cure) and Ossis (bone). It's the kind of thing JK does, so sue me.
> 
> 2) This mostly sort of wrote itself. I was worried I'd have issues coming up with ridiculous injuries that would only ever take place at Hogwarts but the fact that they don't have to make even a little sense helped a lot. When I thought it while I was running maintenance on all the analyzers at work on my last shift, I really wanted it to be an Annie-Mikasa become best friends bc they've been to the hospital wing together so often, but it kinda just turned into a Petra-central fic that was fun and stupid and an excuse to introduce everyone I've neglected in the previous instalments.
> 
> 3) There's more coming. I like this AU too much to stop now.


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